


dog

by marchingwords



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dog - Freeform, Fluff and Humor, M/M, One Shot, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchingwords/pseuds/marchingwords
Summary: “Sherlock, what’s in the box?”





	dog

“Sherlock, what’s in the box?”

In the times of living in 221b, John really didn’t know what to make of the situations he’s in.

“John, must you worry?”

Because there stood Sherlock, in all of his strange glory, holding a very peculiar and a very _moving_ cardboard box while silently wrestling with it to keep it in his arms. John really hopes it isn’t another batch of rats.

Oh, how he should’ve took that extra shift at the surgery today.

“Sherlock,” John said, giving the detective a pointed stare as his fists struggled not to clench (it recently became a habit of his; normally it made his palms painfully marked by his fingernails). “Please tell me it isn’t rats.”

Rats were the worst.

“Really, John, you needn’t worry,” Sherlock replied with a small chuckle, acting as nonchalantly as he could with the still moving box in his arms. A sudden thought seemed to strike him. “Oh, by the way, Sarah said she needed you to call her when you got the chance.”

John straightened his back. “Really? When? Was it urgent?

Before Sherlock could reply, John took a sharp inhale. “Wait a minute.”

“Ah,” Sherlock said, a smile forming on his face, “I see you’re improving.”

John sighed. “Sherlock, as much as I really don’t like those words coming out of your mouth, please tell me you’re not testing my cognitive skills again.”

John just got a smile in response, and John visibly gave up. “Sherlock, what’s in the box?”

“Fine, John,” Sherlock falsely exasperated, though his smile still clear on his face. “Promise me you won’t tell Mrs. Hudson.”

One opening of a box and a small gasp later, John decided to speak up. “You didn’t,” he whispered,  staring inside the cardboard box, refusing to look away.

Sherlock gave John one of his very rare smiles. The smile that John could see was purely genuine — no signs of misleading sincereness or false happiness — and John happily stored it away in his own mind palace, one he made just for Sherlock. “I remembered the christmas list you showed me when we were looking at the boxes Harry gave you,” Sherlock said softly. “And I remembered one of the things on there was a dog, and how accurate you said the list still applied to this day.”

Quiet sniffles could be heard from John, who was trying _very_ hard not to get emotional over an _animal_ — no matter how cute or small said animal was.

“I wanted to show you and Rosie him–“ Sherlock motions his head to the box, his eyes blinking away small tears threatening to spill “–when you came back from work. I didn’t expect you to be this early. You usually take those extra shifts on a Thursday. Hell,” he continued, “I didn’t expect him to be so quiet. Maybe he’ll be helpful in the future.”

“Sherlock,” John whispered, interrupting the other before he started rambling, and smiling softly while resting his hands on each side of Sherlock’s face. “ _Sherlock.”_

John is glad he didn’t take that extra shift at the surgery today. 

—

All in the end, Sherlock and John’s love for each other could be seen as exaggerated to most, but it was moments like these where John remembered one of the many reasons John had married him.

In the times of living in 221b, what really lies inside is a detective needing a bit more than a high, and a war doctor needing a bit more than an adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> based off prompt: “They get a dog. Just. Dog”


End file.
